


you can start all over again

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, F/M, M/M, News Media, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a brave new world for Steven Gerrard. </p><p>future!fic: What if Stevie came out as bi and still gets the guy (read: Xabi fucking Alonso)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can start all over again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trimalchio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trimalchio/gifts).



> I'm not a journalist nor do I read magazines frequently enough to mock up an real interview. This is all fictional beyond the quotes and some of the headlines.

IT DOESN’T START with a round of applause or fans singing his name. Steven Gerrard’s story consists of three things: family, love, and football. Singularly, they are all important to give insight into the actions of the 40-year-old, but blend them all together and you might figure out what makes the ex-Liverpool captain tick. A few short years ago, no one could’ve predicted Steven Gerrard’s farewell to the Reds and now another surprise announcement: Captain Fantastic is bisexual.

_2007_

Stevie doesn’t know why his stomach is churning like he’s had a bad egg salad when he sees the headline: “Xabi Alonso signs five year contract with Liverpool,” the relief is a pinprick in a sea of roiling emotions threatening his scheduled breakfast. He had been the first to extend his contract, but he hadn’t wanted to be too hopeful with the steady stream of names that had joined his in line. He spares a thought to call Xabi at some point during the day but never gets around to it. It _is_ four days before the wedding and so many impossibly little things can go wrong that his whole day is swallowed up by a rush of activity. 

At Cliveden, he can’t think of anything but calling Xabi, which is absurd. Every stray thought manages to circle back to his teammate who is most certainly enjoying his time off before pre-season wherever he had decided to ultimately go for a vacation. 

“‘Special feelings’, what a sap.” He mutters to himself, a smile appearing on his face despite the tension he’s been carrying since the season ended. He had been in the same position two years ago and he knew what the persistence of a bigger name calling felt like. Xabi was one of the best, and Liverpool carried weight enough in his world, but Xabi could call another country home, could easily get silverware and fame somewhere else. If _he_ could almost walk away to better shores than what was stopping Xabi from doing so.

_”I knew there was interest from other clubs but it was always my idea to stay here for three seasons now and [I] have such special feelings for the club and the supporters. I understand what Liverpool means to so many people. It’s a special club and I just didn’t want to leave.”_

Do you cook? We sit down in the kitchen after getting a brief tour of the first floor. It’s spacious, enough chrome to be impressive but with homey touches, including a wall of postcards and photos of his girls arranged on a corkboard-slash-scheduled meal plan across from our view. Gerrard sees my line of sight and smiles the sort of smile all parents’ manage effortlessly; pride and affection barely contained in a single expression. 

“Barely, my--I’m, well, my chef thinks I make a mess of it all the time, but I try my hand at it on the weekends or whenever the girls come up with an idea for family night. Alex says I’m much better than when she first met me, which I should hope so as it’s been over a decade.” He laughs ruefully. 

Do the kids like it at least? I ask curious if his cooking is kid-approved. After all, children are often the most honest in these situations.

His eyes stray back to the wall of vacation photos, christmas cards, and the odd scribbled list. “Yeah,” his smile spreads to his eyes, crinkling with the effort. “Lou has fun using the pasta machine. Lex has declared herself vegetarian so we work around that once a month. Tofu night was a bit of a disaster.” 

_2018_

“You do know I own a bar don’t you?” 

Xabi hums non-committedly, briefly showing his true colors by quirking up an eyebrow at glancing at him with what Stevie could only describe as “are you, a poor sad idiot with half an adequate palate, arguing with me, the connoisseur?” sort of look. He deflates, strolling alongside the Spaniard to get to an out-of-place door that led up the narrowest steps he’d ever seen. 

Another door met them at the top, this one painted a nice shade of green with a brass handle. Stevie feels a little like he’s following Willy Wonka to his chocolate factory except he wasn’t getting any treat besides expensive meat and seafood if he knew anything about Xabi’s usual tastes. 

But he was excited. It had been a while since the both of them were in the same location even as retired players, they hadn’t quite managed to find the time to get together. Xabi was getting some more culture under his belt and Stevie was steadily cementing his place as a coach instead of a former player with a whim. His U21 team had thrashed Chelsea’s to the cup and Klopp had praised his work, citing his interest in some of his kids. The media had eaten it up. Rumors sparked up on who would eventually take up the mantle for both Liverpool and England. Stevie had laughed off the absurdity of coaching England. 

His main goal would always be Liverpool. England didn’t need him. The national players were maturing into a team that had real potential in the World Cup. Stevie didn’t want that nor did he think it possible for him to take the post. The academy and board had been clear that they wanted him as manager one day and Stevie planned to get there at least before Lou turned 18.

“You are very quiet, Stevie.” Someone had already set the menu in front of them and Xabi wasn’t carefully deliberating the options like he was wont to do in favor of watching him. 

“Always got my head in the game, yeah? Just thinking about the lads. Neville must be pissing himself right about now. Praying to Fergie to give him strength or something like it. Even as an assistant, they’re about ready to crucify him.” 

Xabi shakes his head, softly amused by the flood brought on by his prodding. 

“There are enough Reds on the team to keep him on his toes. But I do not think Gary Neville is the problem on your mind.” 

Stevie wasn’t sure if Xabi was more an X-ray or a lie detector, even after years, he could pinpoint when something was wrong with him, but Stevie couldn’t do the same. Nothing caused a ripple on the surface of what Xabi wanted the world to see and Stevie was always left flailing in the deepest parts of him, deaf, dumb and blind without a clue on how to navigate himself.

“Why did you go to Germany?” The question takes him by surprise even as it comes out of his mouth, but Xabi looks as perplexed as he feels and it diverts the conversation to a path seldom taken. 

His mouth takes up a shape as if he was going to start explaining but Xabi’s eyes go unfocused before meeting his sight. 

“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” It’s a careful answer but Stevie can’t crack the code and gives a little shrug, an easy surrender to whatever is gathering in the air around them. 

“What do you recommend?” He nudges the menu on the table.

“The Carpaccio,” Xabi replies easily, motioning the waiter over, ready to prove his superior palate to Stevie.

**PEP’S SPANISH ARMADA: Xabi Alonso is the latest Spaniard signed under Pep’s management for Bayern Munich. Alonso looking for a third champions league victory with the Bavarian giants?**

Why come out now? Gerrard is enjoying a change of pace with the Reds’ reserve team as assistant manager and most of the reports coming out of England have tipped him as the successor to Jurgen Klopp’s fairytale team. Klopp had even stated in an interview earlier this year that he would welcome Stevie G to be part of his management team. He could certainly inject more Scouse into their locker room talks. The Normal One has declined any talk about where he might go next or whether he’ll extend his contract and with only a year left before he hits his famed seven, Gerrard seems a more and more likely option for Liverpool.

So why now, as his career is inching into the dream come true for a boy whose only goal in life was to help Liverpool achieve everything that it could? He is a legend as a footballer but he could be even more extraordinary as the manager with the insight on what it takes to win it all at Champions. A feat that hasn’t been duplicated since he himself was a player at Liverpool, not for lack of trying on Klopp’s part.

Liverpool has consistently been in the top half of the table with their latest UCL dreams dashed in the quarter-finals against the eventual finalists Atletico Madrid. 

_2005_

It was a drunken peck on the lips. 

It could’ve easily been someone else, anyone else. Everyone was in the throes of celebration and no one was not at least inebriated on the atmosphere, of coming back from being down three and still winning it all. 

He wasn’t thinking when he tilted his head back and dared Xabi to kiss him. It only catches up to him later on in the night, staring at Big Ears catch the stray light coming through the window curtains. Kissing the trophy and kissing Xabi isn’t the same, doesn’t hold the same meaning. It was acceptable to pucker up for silverware but it wasn’t okay to do the same with a teammate. 

Xabi had slurred some spanish into his ear after the peck. He didn’t get the words, but he got the sentiment, because they were all on the same page. They had done it and they had done it together. Every person on the team was integral to getting back up, to holding up that trophy. 

Stevie wasn’t just the captain of the team, he was Liverpool. They were all Liverpool, from Jerzy to the youngest supporter in the stands to the people watching that kept believing they could do it. As soon as he had the trophy in his hands, his only thought beyond relief was he could feel all of the love, the heartbeat and soul of the team. The crest had come alive. The dream had been reached and they were all soaring high enough to touch the heavens. 

It was a brief shining moment where he was certain JP was watching, could hear his small voice going mad in delight like it had watching Macca play.

After everything, Stevie was afraid. What would it be like after this, after climbing so high. How do you get used to the ground again? 

There were other cups, other trophies to win with the team but what if this was his crowning achievement. What if this was the moment that defined him. Would it be enough? Could he live with that?

_”He always pushes his teammates on and that night in Istanbul, they knew he could make the difference.” Rafael Benitez, former manager of Liverpool_

“I DIDN’T WANT to make it a big deal anymore. It’s who I am and if it changes opinions on me, well, that says something about the rest of the world doesn’t it? I’m not a player anymore and it took some deep reflecting to get to a point in my life where I could admit it out loud. And I think I have to thank Alex for getting my head out of my ass as she does best, because I was still her husband at the end of the day. And that meant the world to me.”

There is no doubt that the Gerrards are still amicable if not downright friendly as partners in raising their children. Alex Gerrard nee Curran is still a staple of this house and despite the many rumours surrounding their split, it seems they defy the usual warning of being friends with an ex. 

Steven looks pensive, the deep grooves of his forehead threatening to sag his face into the very likeness of a pug. 

“You aren’t gonna ask me why we got divorced?” It’s a hopeful note, wary still but definitely erring on hopeful. Admittedly it’s a topic we should get to, and one that’s been hotly debated and blown into the realm of dramatic and outrageous, but it’s not organic. I don’t want to force answers from a man who's been forced into a role for most of his life because of his line of work. Steven Gerrard doesn’t owe me any answers. He’s invited me to tea, into his house, into his thoughts. He even contacted our offices to set up this interview. 

More often than not, we forget these figure of greatness are ordinary people. The more I get him talking, it’s unmistakable in Gerrard. The very fabric of him is made up of ordinary, just another one of Liverpool’s sons who happened to make everything ordinary about him into an extraordinary anyone can achieve. 

Everyone has the capacity to be brave. He just had to do it on a larger stage. 

_2016_

“Retiring is much more exhausting than I thought.” He made himself comfortable on the couch, setting his head on Alex’s lap. She snorted, not taking her eyes off the rerun of the Kardashians’ misadventures. 

“You could’ve stayed on for another year. I think you’re doing the whole retirement bit wrong if you’re grouchier, Stevie.” She peered down at him. 

“I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it. David’s perfectly fine after retiring. I think he’s reached a billion followers on instagram or something. He was very excited about that.” Stevie does his best impression of David’s wide smile. Alex rolled her eyes, swatting his chest with a hearty smack. 

“I’m sure Brooklyn was properly devastated. You’re not David Beckham. You’re not gonna sell your soul to H&M and get a fashion line going, love. We’ve saved up enough and the girls won’t have to worry about anything besides having to move back but my point still stands, what do you want to do?” Alex’s concerned face hovering over him wasn’t comforting so he maneuvered himself back into a sitting position.  
“I don’t think it’s his soul so much as his body,” he mutters under his breath. Frowning back at Alex for a beat, he gives up on winning because it’s a question that affects their future but he doesn’t have an answer besides Liverpool and getting back home. 

“I suppose I could coach.” He throws out cautiously, gauging her reaction. 

“That’s a good start,” she encourages with a slight smile, but it doesn’t seem to appease whatever is on her mind because there are still storm clouds in her eyes. Stevie heaves a sigh of relief. Coaching would be good to keep the girls in one place. At least, Stevie hopes it would work out that way. 

“Stevie--” They’re interrupted by Lily-Ella and Lexie arguing loudly and wanting their mother’s opinion on who was right. 

Later on that night, Alex mumbles to him half-asleep, “I love you, Stevie, nothing will change that.”

He dreams of Liverpool, of what could’ve happened if Fernando stayed for a little longer, if Luis hadn’t left like he did, if Xabi had managed to see out his contract. Xabi would’ve known what to say to Nando, would’ve known how to deal with Brendan and Luis, would’ve taken some of the weight off his shoulders just by being himself. 

Stevie had always been the fuel, steadily streaming until a spark came to set Liverpool alight. He couldn’t manage to raise them up by himself no matter how much he pulled. The lads cycled between disappointment and grazing the sun with their fingertips. Stevie couldn’t do it anymore in the end. Los Angeles was in turns too hot or too humid and he craved the overcast skies and the Merseyside water until it was an ache he could insulate with football. 

Without football, he wasn’t much. 

Without football, he would just keep waiting for someone else to immolate him. 

He woke up shivering from the AC, the sun not up yet. He ran his hands over his face trying to grasp at remnants of the dream but all he could manage was smoke curling around his fingertips as someone murmured in his ear, a hand against his throat.

A caress or a warning?

**GAY FOOTBALLERS: the time is right, say Premier League chief. The tide is turning and more sports people are openly gay. It would be strange to not expect anyone on the top flight teams to be gay.**

How did your kids take it? 

“They had some funny ideas about it. I think Carra had been telling them more stories than I thought. Alex and I straightened them out. There was a lot of fear in those days on what might happen and how to deal with anything that could come up. My first priority was Alex and the girls. As much as the world has changed, we would’ve been stupid not to take precautions. 

I didn’t want my family to suffer because of me.”

You can see the toll football has taken on Gerrard’s body, the certain stiffness of the legs, the sun spots and practiced smiles, but there is no way to capture the toll of having to keep this secret and how it has changed the man before me. There is no before and after to catalogue the differences between a skinny 19-year old playing with Redknapp and the distinguished 36-year-old hanging up his boots on foreign shores. 

Perhaps because there is no difference. He was always there waiting for the chance.

_2003_

“Ya don’t need to act like a scared mouse around Sami. He’s not gonna bite ya for being the captain now.” Carra rummages through his bag for a bit before finding a suitably clean pair of socks. Stevie winces. He didn’t think it was all that obvious but if Carra knew, then Sami definitely knew he was avoiding him as much as possible. 

He was grateful that Gérard had given him the chance, had seen enough in him to declare him fit to lead the team, but Sami was a great captain. He was cut of the same cloth as the rest of them and much more experienced than his 23 year old self. 

“‘Course not, who would want to deal with you all day as vice captain?” He easily hits back, getting into a comfortable back and forth with Carra. He got played into a trap when he noticed Sami was waiting them out and Carra had slipped away to talk to a physio about his smashed toe. 

“Stevie,” He greeted.

“Sami,” He faltered nervously, not knowing what to say, but he kept his head up. Stevie couldn’t act like a clueless kid. He knew it was childish to expect everyone to agree with the appointment but getting Sami’s approval would mean he had some sort of chance out there. 

“Congratulations,” Sami smiles with a hand out to give a shake. The balloon in his chest deflates and his throat works to get unstuck. 

“Thanks,” He feels light when Sami turns the handshake into a hug, the Finn easily breaking any notions of disappointment and resentment. 

“You’re gonna be great, don’t let them say anything different. The fans know you’re a good lad. You have Liverpool here.” Sami points at his chest, at his heart. Stevie laughs, relief making him lighter, faith giving him the steel to take the next step and lead the team out on Anfield.

_"He's probably been the best player this country has ever seen - not only as a player, but also as a leader and a captain.” Jordan Henderson, Liverpool captain_

Would you do anything differently? 

“I think everyone wants a time machine at some point in their lives, especially with some matches,” He stresses meaningfully, but continues without specifying, “At the end of the day, that’s how it all went down and you can’t change it. I suppose it’s better we don’t invent one. But no, there’s nothing I would change. I made my decisions and I can’t complain. I’ve been lucky. I have support from my family and friends and there’s not much else I need, ‘cept a clear conscience.” He ends with a steely voice. 

Many wouldn’t walk away from what they love in order to live the life they want, but it seems to be clear that Steven Gerrard is aware of the risks and still charging head first into the fray. When the news hit of his declaration, everyone was scrambling to find a different meaning, cautious to a fault. Perhaps he was supporting someone close to him, saying he didn’t see anything wrong with being gay, with being in love with someone of your own gender. 

He cleared it up days later, no, he wasn’t gay, but yes, he would consider a relationship with another man a valid choice of his own. No, he was not in, nor had an affair with a man but he had had romantic feelings for one at some point in his life, enough to assure him that he was bisexual. 

The world exploded into a frenzy, every tabloid wanting a piece of the puzzle, going as far as to interview and harass anyone with a liminal connection to the former England and Liverpool player. 

Jamie Carragher, Gerrard’s deputy for many years at the club and current pundit on Sky threatened one of the _Mirror_ ’s reporters over some out of line questioning on Gerrard’s character, stating “Makes no difference to me who Stevie wants to spend his time with, been friends with him for more than twenty years. He’s given everything he’s got to football, doesn’t make him less of a great manager to be in love with a man, you bigoted prick.” 

And was he, in love with someone, a little more than a year after separating from his ex-wife? 

He pauses, then shakes his head, “Love is a lot of things. I’m not in love.”

_2019_

Alex doesn’t so much leave as she does pack up some clothes and give him a kick in the pants for his trouble. 

“This isn’t my dream house, Stevie, it’s yours. I’ve rented an apartment so we both have our own space without having to compromise. Lilly will be on her learner’s permit soon so they won’t have to worry about the drive. Please look at me.” 

His eyes are burning but he manages to swallow down some of his misery and does as he’s told. 

“Why won’t you stay, we can still live together here. This is more difficult on the girls, on you, on me,” he pleads for the last time, knowing once Alex’s mind is set, there’s nothing to change her course, but he had to try.

Her hands are cool on his hot cheeks, still valiantly holding onto composure. 

“It’s more difficult, yeah, but it’s right. I’ll still be here, just not _here_. Stevie, the paperwork is all done and we both need the chance to be by ourselves. Seventeen years we’ve been together and I don’t regret that, but I’m afraid you might if you keep me around like a safety blanket. I can’t do that to you, Steven George Gerrard. Your next happy ever after is out there somewhere and I’ll be damned if you miss out on it.” She kisses his forehead gently as his tears finally fall in response. 

He hugs her middle, not wanting to let go, a few second more to hang on to the ways things used to be. This incredible woman who gave him three wonderful daughters was moving on, so much more effortlessly than he. Time and time again, he reminded himself how lucky he was to fall in love with Alex Curran and share half his life with her.

Her arms were strongly anchored around his shoulders and her perfume surrounded him. 

“Don’t wait, okay? You’ve been waiting long enough.” Her warning is muffled by the force of her hug. They stay quiet for a moment before he breaks. 

Stevie sniffed, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, don’t forget that. No matter what.” 

**LIVERPOOL LEGACY: Jon Alonso to follow father’s footsteps? The youngster has been spotted on Academy grounds earlier this month. Alonso Sr. has alluded to raising his son as a Reds’ supporter and both father and son have been seen at Liverpool matches after his retirement.**

What does the future hold for Steven Gerrard with this new chapter of his life?

“I can’t predict the future, but I’m hoping I can keep on coaching. I would love to get a shot at winning the league with the lads as a manager. That is, after Jurgen decides he wants to leave, which I don’t expect to be any time soon. I said in my book, I played for Jon-Paul and that was true, but now I think whatever happens; I’m gonna do for myself.”

Steven’s phone interrupts his train of thought, the flash of the screen is too quick to be a call but it puts a smile on his face anyway. He relaxes and looks ready to usher us out. 

“Sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting.” The Board perhaps?

He chuckles as he shakes my hand and the rest of the crews’. “No, I have to go out to lunch. Expanding my horizons with some salmon tartare.” 

I had one final question on my mind, mostly inconsequential, but still on the forefront of my mind. Why seat us in the kitchen when he had multiple reception rooms with couches and chairs? “Oh,” he looks sheepish, “My mum would always say the happiest room in a house should be the kitchen because of the memories you make. I have a lot of good memories here, and I’m happy with it. I want them to know that.” 

It’s certainly a brave (and happy) new world for Steven Gerrard. 

M.S. Wright is a senior writer for Vogue, photography done by C. Leone-Thomas

**SPECIAL EDITION!**

_2022_

“You bought a house?” Stevie checks his phone just in case he somehow ended up hanging up and hallucinated the last part of the conversation.

“Here? As in Liverpool? What did Nagore say about that?” He definitely doesn’t hallucinate Xabi saying “it’s about time,” in a pitch trying to emulate Nagore’s voice. Xabi had been living in the apartment he had kept since he played with Liverpool with Jon as he set up with the academy. 

Two years of stubbornness had been accompanied with the sinking feeling that at any moment, Stevie would have to say goodbye to Xabi. He obsessively checked up on Jon’s progress in the academy for that reason, hoping if Jon liked it here and managed to find his niche, it would cement the Alonso’s in Liverpool for good.

He shucked off his windbreaker, before thinking better of it and hanging it on the hooks Carra had helped him install by the door in an effort to tidy up and prove his “why do you have closets if you treat your whole house like one,” argument wrong. 

“When are you moving in? I’ll help you out with boxes.” He wedges his phone between his neck and shoulder to get his sneakers off, and misses Xabi’s answer as a result.

“What?” Xabi responds with something about a moving company. Stevie sighs exasperated, “Okay, but you’ll still need help getting everything out of boxes, Xabs. We can make it a party. Just like when you left last time. No, I know I was the only one that showed up, but that’s not--If you cook, I’m sure I could convince some of my players...yes. Well, I can ask Jordan but you still haven’t told me when.” 

He tries not to remember the disaster of when Xabi left. Stevie had tried to be there for him as a captain and friend but he realized now that he had already been wrestling with the undefined tension that left him bereft after he had gone. He’d been half in love with Xabi for a long time. 

_“Stevie?”_ He snaps out of his musings and Alex’s voice in his head berating him. 

“Yeah, March...2nd? That’s next Saturday right?” He frowns, mentally checking his schedule. There was a game on the third but it was at home so he could easily pop in and help out. Food would lure in some of the unattached lads into some work.

“No, no it’s alright. I’ll be there. Yeah, see you.” 

He pocketed the phone to switch to his desktop, video-calling Alex with practiced ease. 

Her image filled the screen, glasses perched on her head, looking as beautiful as ever. She had a plate of biscuits next to the keyboard that looked pretty good to his famished stomach. 

“What’s wrong with Xabi now? You only get that look when something has upset the equilibrium in your little bubble” was out of her mouth before he even started to talk. He makes a face at her ‘little bubble’ comment which makes her burst into laughter.

“There’s nothing wrong with Xabi, he’s finally bought himself a house.” He pauses, still eyeing the plate and letting her amusement wash over him like a comforting balm. No matter how much time passed, he was still a giant fool to his ex-wife. 

“Mmhmm, and?” He took a deep breath.

“I offered to help him but it got me thinking about when he left and how stupid I was back then. Did you know how half in love I was with him?” His tone goes miserable. 

“Oh Stevie, you don’t do anything by halves, darling. And I was there, of course I knew, but I didn’t know what to tell you and I couldn’t very well say, you were suffering from heartbreak.” She is sympathetic and when he finally raises his head up to meet the screen, he sees she is frowning minutely.  
“You’re both bad actors, you know?” She points out waving about a biscuit. 

“What?” He asks, confused on where she was headed. 

“It’s been two years since he got divorced and you’re not doing yourselves any favors with those lunch dates.” She shushed down his protest that they were not dates as it was a tired subject between them. 

“I told you before, you shouldn’t wait. I didn’t just mean that for you. That’s the next step, isn’t it? Steven Gerrard, manager of the Reds with a boyfriend on his arm. No one’ll find a fault with that. They love you, Stevie.” 

All of his excuses slip between cracks like sand between his fingertips. He doesn’t want a sandcastle easily swept away. He wants the real thing. 

“You’re absolutely daft, you know. Telling your ex to get over themselves and ask somebody else out.” 

Alex winks on screen and Stevie tells himself he’ll have to buy her something nice if it does pan out. 

“Had to be, to deal with you for so long. You weren’t made for dating, love. You just have to dive right in and find your way to the surface. You’ve both been treading water for a while now. So go get ‘im and don’t call me until you’ve landed one on his lips alright?” She cuts the call with a ‘good luck’ and a wave, leaving him with his thoughts because she was a sadist.

He stared at the screen blankly until an idea formed. He would need reservations and tea would have to wait some more. 

But first, he had to ring Xabi.

**Author's Note:**

> This seems inconclusive and very one-sided so I feel like I should do a follow-up with xabi's POV but I mean, I hope it's still readable. Thanks to footie springfling for getting me off my butt to contribute something new to the fandom.


End file.
